


The language of Flowers

by nightmaart



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: F/M, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmaart/pseuds/nightmaart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Red and Yellow are florist but Reds only in on it to get the girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The language of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> It has a very disappointing end im very sorry i ended up writing this and finishing it at 2 am   
> I will write a better ending per request.

_Scritch scritch scratch._ He'd scratch his neck, ruffle his hair, and bite his nails, whenever it came down do this. A customer would ask for a “Love bouquet” but replace the Salvia with flowers that held a little more meaning, or ask for something off the charts of things listed as Flower bouquets Red had memorized. The petite female snickered, pushed him from his place, and made with her work. He was still learning, while she was fluent in the language of the flowers.

“Put in red roses, white yarrow, and daisies, and voila, Red! Tie it up with some white tissue and a red ribbon, and that will be 900 poke please!” The customer payed, thanked the two, and left the shop, “Now can you tell me what they meant?” Yellow turned from the counter, whipping long strands of marigold hair behind her shoulder in one strong flick.  
“Uh...” Scritch scratch.   
A long groan, “You're hopeless,” but nevertheless, she gave a smile that glowed brighter than the sun would on a day after 50 storms. It was cute—no—beyond cute. It was gorgeous. It was the reason he quit his last job of being a fully employed NEET living on the couch in his best friends apartment and applied for a job at a flower shop, and into a line of work of which he would never understand.  
Yellow began putting her things into her arms, and turning off the back lights of the shop, “Well, I think that's all for today, I'll be leaving first!” A glance over her shoulder, she waiting for his usual reply of 'Alright, see you'.  
 _Quick, Red! Quick, Red! Ask her out, ask her out!_ The same choirs that chanted in his head daily delayed him for the first time in his life. The red-eyed teen was almost positive his heart never beat this hard in his entire life, and his face was likely almost bright red, oh god, and it's probably weird he still hasn't moved since they made that last bouquet, isn't it?  
“Red?” The girl tilted her head to the side, as if trying to get a good look at him, from his position hidden in the dark by the lights she flicked off.  
“DO--”OH GOD DON'T YELL-- “D-do you wanna go get some... some coffee or something sometime?” He did it, sweet Jesus, he did it.  
A angelic, light hearted laugh assisted words that relieved any possible conflict that obstructed Reds grand view of just how wonderful life could be, “Sure, Red,”

 

Yellow really liked flowers. Like. _Really liked flowers._ Every word she spoke consisted of flowers, it almost reminded Red of how much he talked about video games. Except she understood video games, and one thing about Red was _he will **never** understand flowers _. They met at a coffee shop near by the flower shop before their shifts, even though the same coffee shop was well known for over sweetening the drinks-- it had no comparison to Yellow in his mind. So he would keep sipping away at was literally liquid sugar, paying little mind to that, and more to the glorious girl whose voice flowed like honey._  
She may not have been out-right breathtaking at first sight, in fact she never matched any of the girls—and boys for that matter—that where considered to be the ebony boys 'type', yet upon first speaking to her he was hooked. Slowly but surely, his visits to the shop became more frequent until he was filling in an application to get closer to her. That on its own was bewildering to Green, who knew his infamous girlfriend since they were children, though the fact that Red left the house for such a girl was surprising to him, too.  
But now, all three of them—being Red, Green, Blue-- would sit on the couch watching House M.d. reruns all night and plotting Red next plan to get the girl (which sometimes felt as one big ploy to get the crimson eyed boy the fuck out of Greens apartment)._

__

___2 years, 278 dates, and an entire move into his own apartment later, Red was ready to put his final plan into motion. Or at least maybe he was. The bookshelves that covered a wall in his abode seemed to say so, but he never felt less sure about anything. The past two years he had slaved over books covering flowers, yet he still had to ask Yellow the meanings on a day to day basis. It was to his luck he now understood color combinations to say the least, but that could always lead you in wrong directions if someone understands flower meanings._  
Yet again reading over pages, ripped and worn in from days upon days of studying, the doorbell rang. That was it for that book, and off into the abyss known as his bedroom it goes---she's not allowed in there in the first place. Straightening out a few things and checking to make sure the curtains to the porch were shut, before making a quick stride to the door.   
“Two years, Red, and you never invite me to your apartment until now!” She pouts as she walks in, a grin quickly growing on her face after wards, “What's the the occasion?”   
“Oh y-you know,” Again a nervous stutter appeared in his voice, just as it did the day he first asked her out for coffee. He had gotten better at hiding his embarrassment but all his training washed away the moment she made way through that doorway.   
The blonde made fickle conversation as per usual, talking about the tea he made with passion that matched no other, or how she loved the scent of his room despite it smelling like it hadn't been cleaned once in the 8 months he's lived there. All the while he made pained glances towards the heavy curtains draped over a glass paned door.  
“--Er, hey, Yel--” Almost interrupting her words, Red broke his silent streak that consisted of listening and pacing, “ Wanna go sit outside for a bit before it gets dark?” With a gesture towards the back wall of the apartment, she gave a nod and followed him out through the thick fabric.  
“I know I don't know a lot about flowers...” His voice was muffled for a second before golden eyes lied upon what seemed to be hundreds of blossoms and pots, vines that grew up the wood planked walls and twisted through the white iron bars that stood as a fence to the air beyond the porch. “And I'm not sure some of this is right...” White, gold, reds, and greens, and illuminated by the sunset that slowly drifted behind them, trekking onto other pieces of the earth. And before them, stood a man who's nervous eyes never met the features of his beloved, “But I devoted two years to picking and growing these because you loved them so much, and I hoped they would prove the way I love you... I know it's really cheesy...”  
“No, Red its perfect!”  
And they hugged. 


End file.
